


Confessions

by Torched22



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Guilt, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/pseuds/Torched22
Summary: Aziraphale feels quite guilty. It's time to confess to Crowley what he's done.





	1. Chapter 1

It was apparent that something was wrong. The Apocalypse had been averted, therefore a celebratory air of jubilation should be expected...right? But no such joyful exuberance was felt by Aziraphale. Crowley knew that something was wrong when the angel had refused a lunch date. 

Maintaining his 'I don't give a shit' façade, Crowley let it go and went about his business for another week. His next attempt was asking the angel to a dinner at one of his favorite restaurants - Bocca di Lupo. They were known for their world famous Italian chef and ambrosia-reminiscent ravioli. Little pockets of hand made pasta filled with the freshest herbs and cheeses and mushrooms. The food was so good that it even made Crowley smile, which was alarming. 

But the angel had turned down the invitation. 

Hanging up the phone, Crowley began to wonder if he had done something wrong. Doing the wrong thing was pretty much his job description, but perhaps he'd done something to hurt Aziraphale's feelings? He shouldn't care, even if he had, but a niggling worm of confusion-filled guilt wiggled in his chest. He didn't remember saying anything that would elicit this type of response.

There was only one course of action left - to go ask Aziraphale himself.

He trudged outside his apartment, letting the rain soaked afternoon squish beneath his snake skin boots. Spits of water hit him in the face as he unlocked the Bentley and climbed inside. The pair had been friends for 6,000 years, how much mystery could Aziraphale hold? He was terrible at letting things fester, so if there really was a problem, Crowley was surprised he hadn't come knocking himself.

The streets were slick but that didn't slow Crowley who zipped through the over familiar streets. With the speed at which he drove, it didn't take long until the bookshop was in his sights. There were no parking spots on the street, so he simply disappeared the sedan that sat in his usual spot and pulled in.

By the time his hand was on the door to the bookshop, he was soaked and rather perturbed. He shouldn't have to maintain this friendship. It irked him that he cared so much. Did caring make him weak? He certainly felt weak when he was drinking himself through the floor after he thought he'd lost Aziraphale forever. 

The little bell dinged as he pushed the door open. He closed it behind him and locked it. 

"Aziraphale?" he called, the words skating past volumes of books to reach the angel who was in the back. His friend emerged with a smile, but it faded, something like sadness taking over his features. 

"Crowley, what are you doing here?" 

"I came to see if you're alright. It's not like you to turn down authentic Italian food and hundred year old bottles of wine."

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry about me. We avoided the apocalypse didn't we?" 

"Yes, we did," Crowley walked closer. "And we ate at the Ritz and had a jolly good time." The angel's smile returned. 

"And then you disappeared. Didn't want to talk or hang out or go to lunch or dinner. It's been four months since the Almost-a-lypse and I've hardly seen you at all." 

The angel tried to smile, but it wasn't authentic, a fact that made Crowley's chest hurt. "Did I do something wrong?" he said exasperated. 

Aziraphale's expression shifted to confusion. "No, not at all. Not that I know of."

"Then what is it? Why have you been avoiding me? Did you not have a lovely time at the Ritz?" 

"Oh, I did." 

"Then?" he put his hands out, completely at a loss for what could be bothering his friend. 

"It's not that you've done something wrong..." the angel wrung his hands together, "it's that I did."

"You?! I highly doubt that. And besides, even if you had done something wrong - why avoid me? Doing the wrong thing is right up my alley?" 

Aziraphale was no longer making eye contact, his gaze cast down to the floor, past his wringing hands. 

"Unless it involves me?" he ventured. 

"Still, you should tell me. I won't be mad, I promise." 

"I doubt you'd ever speak to me again. And I would rather not lose you."

"You won't lose me," Crowley softened his voice and put his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders. "If you haven't rid yourself of me in 6,000 years, what makes you think you can now?" 

"I don't know if I can say it out loud." The angel's face was twisted with guilt and it should have delighted Crowley, but it didn't. 

"Could you put your wings around us so no one can hear?" 

"My wings? What's wrong with yours?" 

"Nothing...they're just so...white..."

"Ah," he nodded. His wings manifested from whatever ethereal plane they were tucked away in and spread out, knocking over a few books. "My apologies."

"Quite alright."

It grew dark within Crowley's folded wings, becoming a little safe haven space lit only by the overhead lamp. Something about it made Aziraphale feel safer. Before nearly being destroyed, he had never had to worry about safety. He wondered about that destruction. About what Gabriel and the other angels must have said to his body before forcing it into the hellfire. He'd asked Crowley, but his friend wouldn't tell him.

"So what is it? What have you done that's so very wrong?" 

Aziraphale wasn't sure he could bring himself to put the deed into words. 

"I don't know how to say it...or if I can..."

"I'm here, you can tell me anything. I certainly won't judge you or tell on you."

"I know that."

Crowley wanted to press on, wring the confession out of his pal, but he knew that now was not the time to be forceful. With a sigh, he hung his head. "I'm not going to demand to know. If you don't want to tell me..."

"No, I must tell you. It has been eating at me."

The redhead nodded, and removed his glasses, putting them in his back pocket and looking into those blue/gray/green eyes unobstructed. Aziraphale didn't know this, but he rather hated his eyes. The angel's were so clear, like a pool of water, he wanted to sink into them.

"When I was in your body...and you were in mine...I..." he stumbled on the words and figeted with his fingers.

"Whatever you did to my body, I can guarantee I've done worse."

That gained him a chuckle and the mood lifted a little.

"I feel so dirty. So unworthy..."

Crowley's features reflected his worry. He put a hand on Aziraphale's cheek. "Those are lies. You are entirely worthy, you always will be."

"No matter what I've done?" 

"I believe your boss is big into forgiveness. Not her henchmen maybe...but she is. And I seriously doubt you could have done anything that would be beyond my forgiveness." The angel's cheeks were warm beneath his worried eyes. He looked at Crowley, then leaned his face into the touch. He didn't get touched often. 

That weird thing in Crowley's chest turned again, twisting and clenching and spreading warmth through his body.

"Tell me please."

Aziraphale gently removed Crowley's hand and nodded. 

"Do you ever...have you ever...touched your skin?" 

Crowley was confused.

"Of...course...? I don't think I follow."

"I was in your body and at your apartment and...it was time for bed so...I took off my, er...your, shirt. And you have that full length mirror in your bedroom and I looked at you...your body..."

Oh shit, was this going where Crowley thought it was going? All of a sudden it felt quite hard to breathe. 

"Go on."

"And I...I felt this...I felt my heart beating but between my legs."

The world had to be tilting off its axis. 

"You got hard..."

Aziraphale looked confused.

"You got an erection."

He cleared his throat, "oh, uhm, yes. And I had never..."

Crowley's jaw dropped open. He could barely form the thoughts let alone the words. "You've never gotten hard before? Never masturbated? Never had sex?" the pitch of his voice was impossibly high.

"No, never before, to any of those things. There was never any need for that. I don't think I'm allowed."

"Well has anyone told you you're not allowed?" 

"No."

"Even pious religious people have sex."

"Yes, with their spouses. And I...don't have...I barely even have friendships with humans because their lives are so dreadfully short. It's rather sad. What I should have done in that moment was just...willed it away."

"But you didn't?"

"No. It felt odd...but..."

"Good."

"Yes," he closed his eyes as he said the word, a single strangled syllable that could push Crowley right off the edge of sanity.

"Tell me more," Crowley stepped closer.

"It didn't feel good, trapped in my...your...pants, so I undressed. I figured that in your body I wouldn't be watched so..."

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley's hooded eyes. His mouth was parted, ears intently listening, body rigid. He had a look on his face that the angel had never seen in 6,000 years and the feeling reappeared. The heartbeat between his legs. 

"So you touched yourself? Stroked your cock?" 

A shudder went through Aziraphale and Crowley stepped even closer, so close that now the angel must feel his arousal pressing into his leg. His breathing was heavy. "What did you think of as you touched yourself?" 

"I was in your body, watching your hand on it, looking at your body in the mirror. It was so frustrating...I wanted...I needed.."

"What?" 

"I wanted you, but I was you, so I couldn't have you."

"Are you attracted to me Aziraphale?" it was whispered, their mouths less than an inch apart. "Because I am very much attracted to you."

"You are?" he squeaked. 

"Yes."

"If it were anyone but you...I would wonder if you're tempting me to fall."

"But you don't wonder it, do you? You know I'm sincere. I want what you want. You do not want to be a fallen angel, and therefore, I do not wish to make you fall."

"I know," he put his forehead against Crowley's. 

"It hurts, I want to touch it..."

"Can I?" 

"Can you touch me? There?" 

"Yes," he hissed, barely able to contain himself, his wings trembled.

"I cannot do anything...wrong..."

"I know, but what about someone doing something to you? You're not doing anything. I am." 

"What if they find out?" 

"What if they don't?" 

"Yes please, touch my...me. Please, if you wish." 

Crowley wanted to plummet to his knees and suck the flesh into his mouth. He wanted to do a whole number of things, and if Aziraphale was a human, he'd have done them ages ago. But he really, honestly, truly, did not want to get Aziraphale in trouble - or worse - destroyed. 

"I would like to kiss you first though." 

Crowley nodded and closed his wings tightly around him both, putting his hands reverently on his friend's body. 

"Do you want this too?" Aziraphale asked. Sometimes he was so pure and naive that it hurt. It made Crowley want to cry. He'd only cried three times in 6,000 years. 

"Yes, very much," his fingers dug into Aziraphale and he kissed the other's neck first, breathing in his heavenly scent. He smelled like flowers blooming after a spring shower, like old books with worn corners, like fresh pie cooling in the window sill. Excitement reverberated off of both of them, being absorbed by the other and amplified. Crowley was so hard that he was in pain. He wanted the angel to hurt him, but knew he never would. He wouldn't even understand his desire for pain. He should stop, or be destroyed for touching an angel in a sexual way, he deserved punishment - not this best friend, this wide-eyed, plump cheeked perfection that trusted him so implicitly. 

Now the guilt threatened to swallow him, but as his lips connected with the pulsing neck, it was drowned in desire. He kissed the thin flesh there and felt a surge of feeling, the likes of which he'd never experienced before. 

Surely, this must be the end of the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley could feel Aziraphale's heart beating rapidly beneath his lips. He was taking his time, licking and sucking and kissing the angel's neck before deciding to softly bite down. A moan rumbled through Aziraphale and sent shockwaves through Crowley.

"Please kiss me," he begged.

The begging didn't help Crowley to calm down any. 

"I am kissing you," he spoke into his neck, breath dissipating in a hot wash over the cool flesh. 

"I...that's not...you know what I mean."

"I don't, what do you mean, Angel?" 

"My lips..."

Crowley stood, pulling the other's body even closer, crushing their hips and chests together, melting in the feel of Aziraphale's erection pressing into his. This couldn't be real, could it? Was he being tortured by his people? Was this a hallucination? Or madness? Aziraphale was tired of waiting, he tilted his head and stared at Crowley's mouth until the distance was closed. 

Crowley was experienced, he had done this before. He had slept with humans. And Aziraphale had never even been kissed. It was the stupid stark contrast that played a central role in their lives. Crowley was dark, Aziraphale was light. Black wings vs white. Hell vs. heaven. But in their teaming up to avoid Armageddon, things seemed more gray. 

The angel's lips beneath his were timid and unmoving, but Crowley didn't mind, he kissed his friend like he'd waited 6,000 years to do so, because he had. Those angelic lips were as cool as jumping into a pool in the dead of summer, enveloping Crowley in a soothing winter-like peace that he'd never experienced. Then they started to reciprocate. 

For not knowing what he was doing, it felt quite right to Aziraphale to move his lips and even timidly press his tongue into Crowley's mouth - an act which made the other man hold him even tighter. His mouth was as hot as a sauna, like basking in the warm sun after being cold for too long, or taking a steamy scalding shower to chase away the shivers of winter. It felt like coming inside from the cold, like drinking a good whiskey and feeling the warmth spread through your body.

He groaned into Crowley's mouth and rubbed himself against his friend because it felt so good. Finally though, the pair had to break apart. 

"I want more, I'm not sure what that entails, but I would like more," Aziraphale said. Seeing him like this - an angel with plump, kiss-swollen lips and a hickey forming on his neck... well... for a flicker of a moment, it made Crowley resent his own fall. If he hadn't fallen from heaven, he could spend forever there with Aziraphale. The realization that once Earth ended, they'd be forever separated, made fear spike in his chest for the first time since hearing that the world was coming to an end. They had staved it off, but the war wasn't over. 

"You look sad Crowley," Aziraphale said with alarm. "I'm so sorry," he took a step back, but Crowley took one forward. 

"I'm only sad because..."

"Why?" 

"I don't ever want to be separated from you. I don't ever want to be destroyed. I don't ever want you to be destroyed. I want us to be free."

"We are free."

"No," he shook his head slowly, "we're not. But we have right now, and right now, I'd like to touch you."

"Okay."

Fuck. It shouldn't be that easy to ask for permission to stroke an angel's cock. In their true forms, they wouldn't even have cocks. Beings like them didn't have these Earthly bodies or desires. But their charges sent them to Earth, sent them to these bodies, sent them to each other. And while these actions would have little to no consequences for Crowley, they would for Aziraphale. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. Please. I'm begging you."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Crowley's hands shakily opened Aziraphale's trousers, and then his own. 

"You...you're taking yours out as well?"

"Yes...just trust me." In a fitting twist of irony, both of them were well endowed. Aziraphale had never used his for anything other than peeing, up to this moment at least. And here he was, long and pale and curved upwards, the head a strawberry pink with precum gathered at the tip. Crowley wanted to sink down and stuff his mouth, but then his wings wouldn't be shielding them anymore. So instead, he swiped a hand up this unfamiliar cock and gathered the beading moisture on his fingers to lick. 

It was the first time anyone had touched Aziraphale there, and that one stroke from Crowley made him want to cry in pleasure. And then one long and narrow finger and thumb were gathering his juices and traveling to Crowley's lips. His cock twitched in response and he swayed forward. 

Their cocks met and Aziraphale's hands ached to move, but he willed them still. 

"Do something Crowley..."

The words brought him back to Earth, his powerful grip taking both of them in hand and beginning to stroke. 

"Oh...uh..." the angel was out of breath, his face was bright red and his cock flushed to a deep cherry color. "I don't understand this need for more..."

"You want to put your cock inside of me...have my cock inside of you...that's what that want is."

"But why..."

"Because it feels good. Because you want me. You care about me and want to show it."

"We...we're on different sides...Crowley.."

He stroked faster, his hand a blur over his fat and long tan cock and Aziraphale's large pale one. He wanted Aziraphale inside of him, more than anything, but couldn't have that. A choked out noise came from his throat, halfway between a sob and a moan as he came onto Aziraphale's erection. The angel just watched, awestruck, that he'd caused such a reaction. 

Just like when he was touching himself in Crowley's body, he felt his balls draw up as hot liquid spilled out of him and onto Crowley. They looked at each other the entire time, eyes hooded, chests heaving, gaze only dropping to observe the other come. 

Crowley held on until both of them couldn't take the oversensitivity of his touch any longer. Then he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean. 

"What does it taste like?" Aziraphale watched with rapt attention, the sight of Crowley licking his come soaked hand burned into his mind for eternity. 

"Salty...usually. Yours is a bit sweet. Tastes different from mine." He couldn't go on, because Aziraphale had lurched forward and sucked an un-licked, come covered finger into his mouth. Crowley felt like passing out. 

"It tastes good."

"We shouldn't do this..." fear rose in Crowley's chest but he couldn't bury it. "We shouldn't do this again," he tucked himself in and zipped up his pants. He was getting hard again - had to get out of there. He tucked Aziraphale back into his trousers as well and did up the button and zipper.

"Did you not like it? Is that why you don't want to do it again?" 

"I liked it far too much, and that's why we can't do it again...I should go."

"I don't want you to."

"I'm sorry."

A hand came out and grabbed Crowley as he put away his wings and turned to leave. 

"Did I just ruin us?" 

Crowley smiled, but it had a sad undercurrent to it. 

"No. Nothing could ruin us, Angel." 

And the words rang true.


End file.
